On Kings and Queens
by SwordxPen
Summary: When Annabeth had told her father that she and Percy were going up to her room to play chess, Percy hadn't exactly expected to… well, actually play chess.


**A/N:** This takes place after the wars but before Percy and Annabeth start their senior year of HighSchool. I always imagine they take a break before starting school since the war ended in August (and they were already so behind with the missing time.) Percy is visiting Annabeth in California in this fic.

The door to her bedroom shuts behind them with a soft _click_ and Percy doesn't waste a moment to thread his fingers into her hair and press his lips to her own. He can feel her smile against him before she responds, her hands snaking their way up his chest where she fists the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him more firmly against her.

He follows the movement and pushes her back against the door, his mouth shifting from her lips to focus on that sensitive spot along her neck below the base of her ear.

Annabeth sighs deeply, " _…the bed_."

He nods in agreement, his hands going to her legs _(to hitch them up around his waist, to carry her to her bed where he'll—)_

She shakes her head and he pulls back to those pretty lips stretched into a shit-eating grin.

"The chess board — it's under the bed."

. . .

Annabeth lays on her stomach across from him on the floor, her legs hooked at the ankle as she sets up little figures on the black and white checkered board between them.

Percy also lays on his stomach… for different reasons.

She hums a little to the music playing off the speaker and Percy plucks one of the smallest figures off his side of the board — it's heavier than he expected, made of white marble with pretty swirled etchings that he's sure comes from those Swedish Royal Ancestors of hers.

When Annabeth had told her father that she and Percy were going up to her room to play chess, Percy hadn't exactly expected to… _well_ , actually play chess.

"So…" Percy tosses the little figure in the air and catches it with a grin. "What is this one called?"

"A pawn." She shifts onto her knees to take the little thing from his grasp. "And don't mess up the board." She gives him a quick peck to his cheek and settles back down.

Percy let's out a huff of air, blowing away the hair from his forehead. "And why are we playing again?"

"Because what you do senior year of high school can really make a difference." She aligns the remaining figures. "I've already got volleyball and track. But I figure if I add a more… academic focused elective, I'll be seen as more well-rounded to colleges. And thus more competitive."

Percy grins, arching an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you're not doing debate with how much you love to argue."

She sticks her tongue out at him. "I actually considered it. But a fourth elective would definitely be too much. And I just happen to really enjoy chess — daughter of a strategy goddess and all."

"And I need some practice before trying out. I haven't played in forever." She continues. Then she flicks her eyes to him — all dark and stormy — appraising. "Also I think you might like this. We have fun with games."

They _do_ have fun with games — It really brings out the competitive nature in them. (Perhaps too well, considering they still can't talk about the Monopoly Incident of 2009)

He nods, moving to sit upright.

"Anything for you Wise Girl."

. . .

"Alright so there are the six different pieces. They differ in the amount of spaces they can move and in which directions."

Annabeth points at the pawn. "The pawn can only move forward, one space at a time unless you move them for the first time then they can move two spaces. But only that once."

She flicks an errant curl out of her face. "There are other things a pawn can do but I'll explain that as we play."

"The rook" — The little tower piece — "Moves in a straight line and can go in any direction horizontally or vertically and for any number of spaces. The bishop" — The one with the cross — "Is like the rook but can only go diagonally. The knight—"

"The horse one." Percy points out. "I know that one."

"Yes. That one is special as it can only move in an L shape but can _jump_ over pieces. The king" — The tallest piece — "can move in any direction but only one space. But the queen…"

She picks up the figure delicately, her smile wide. "Is by far the most powerful piece. Can move any number of squares and in any direction. You don't need her to win but she's a big factor. Try not to lose it early."

She sets it back down. "Basically the gist of the game is to take out your opponent's king. Then it's game over. Got it?"

He does and he doesn't. It's a lot of rules even though she's simplified a lot. But, he figures, that practice is the only way to get it down so he just nods and says, "Got it."

. . .

"White typically goes first." She waves a prompting hand.

Percy places a hand on his heart, his voice saccharine. "Awwww, you're letting me go first."

"You usually get the advantage that way. And since you're playing me you'll need all the help you can get."

"Oh," He gasps, mock hurt. "So that's how it's going to be, huh?"

She shrugs a little, nonchalantly. "Just stating the obvious: I know I'm going to win."

They grin mirror grins — competitive, and smirked, and gods Percy really feels like kissing her right now. His eyes fall to her lips.

She reads his expression and laughs. "Later Seaweed Brain. I've got a game to win first."

. . .

"You're going to want to—" Percy moves his knight before Annabeth can finish speaking. "Or not."

She frowns at the board as if it just said something mildly distasteful and Percy snickers. "Problem Annabeth?"

"No. Of course not."

But she's sitting now and sweeping those curls out of her face up into a ponytail. There's a pucker between her eyebrows.

"You're…" She mumbles something under her breath.

"What was that?" Percy asks, leaning forward to play with the ends of her ponytail. She shivers.

"Don't distract me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

. . .

"I'M COMING IN!" Frederick Chase bellows as the door slams open. "You're— Oh, you're playing chess."

The surprise is clear in his tone and Percy has to keep himself from laughing. _Yeah, I know right?_

"I said we were." She doesn't move her eyes from the board.

Frederick moves from the doorway over to Annabeth, analyzing from over her shoulder. "You've played before Percy?"

"No, sir."

"Hmmmmm." He says, tapping a finger to his chin. He adjusts his glasses. "Interesting."

Annabeth whips her head around at him, eyes piercing. _"What?"_

He raises his hands up and backs out of the danger zone. "Oh, nothing dear."

. . .

"So what's the difference between check and check mate?"

She leans back onto her hands. "You say check when your opponent's king is danger of being taken but is still capable off getting out of said danger. Checkmate is when the opponent's king is in check but can't get out of the danger. Game over."

"Ah," Percy nods, lifting his finger from his bishop. _"Checkmate."_

Annabeth chokes.

 _"_ _There's no way."_ She braces over the board, eyes scanning, disbelieving.

"Way." He aims for nonchalance, but the grin breaks through.

"But you've never played before."

"Nope."

Her stare is accusing and he's thankful that he's grown a certain immunity to that death glare of hers.

"I just looked at it like a battle. Or like a capture the flag game," Percy relents. The he smiles. "I had an objective, I had rules, I had my players — I formed a strategy. Easy peasy."

"I went easy for you." She scowls.

Percy leans forward, swiftly, suddenly, and her eyes are wide as his lips graze over her check bone. They follow a trail to her ear and he whispers, his breath sending her skin prickling:

"And that was your mistake."

 _"_ _Oh."_ She blinks rapidly, shaking her head, and shoves him away. "You're insufferable Percy Jackson."

But they're both laughing, deeply and unabashedly.

He starts setting the pieces up on the board again. "Best two of three?"

"You know it."

. . .

Annabeth wins. Brutally. Utter annihilation, no question about it.

She sits on the floor with her back against the bed and Percy's head in her lap, his body sprawled. She brushes a lock of hair from his eyes.

"I told you I wouldn't make the same mistake twice." The delight is clear in her voice and he can't keep from laughing.

"Has anyone ever told you what a gracious winner you are, Chase?"

She shrugs lazily. "I may have heard it once or twice."

Percy reaches up and threads a hand into the hair at the base of her neck, tugging her down in order to kiss her properly. "To the victor go the spoils."


End file.
